


Grape Soda

by ScumbagSimon



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: (mild), Bars and Pubs, M/M, Sexuality Crisis, Stargazing, grape soda, sensory issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:26:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25795846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScumbagSimon/pseuds/ScumbagSimon
Summary: Kobra doesn't like bars. Neither does Jet.
Relationships: Jet Star/Kobra Kid (Danger Days), Ray Toro/Mikey Way
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	Grape Soda

The engine of the Trans Am roared in the dying of the daylight, going down the beat up sandy road so fast it was as if it was racing an invisible opponent. Jet Star sat in the passenger seat, one leg crossed up and over the opposite knee, twiddling his thumbs and staring out the window. The scenery flashed by in a stream of dull yellows and greens, illuminated by the Trans Am’s cracked headlights sweeping over the terrain. 

In the driver's seat sat Party, one hand lazily grasping the wheel and the other holding onto a cigarette that danced on his lips. His hair hung in a greasy cherry-red curtain over his eyes, which made Jet wonder if he could actually see the road at all. At least both his feet were on the floor, though he had one leg hooked over his left ankle. Behind Jet sat Fun Ghoul, staring out the window with a sharp grin and eyes like a feral animal. It had been Fun’s idea to go on this outing, to a bar he had heard about while eavesdropping on two killjoys (accidently, he claimed). Jet couldn’t recall what it’s name was, because at the time Fun had announced his idea he was engulfed in a wave of reluctance. He’d never been one for bars, typically finding them too loud and smelly and often erotic (call him a prude but he was somewhat uncomfortable seeing two random killjoys grind on each other in the middle of the dance floor). 

Jet could see Kobra in the rearview mirror, sitting with one leg tucked up onto the seat and the other bouncing without pause. He was fidgeting with his hands, pressing his thumb into the other palm, then switching to the other hand. He laced his fingers together as if he was praying, then reached up and rubbed his nose. Throughout this, his eyes were a stark contrast to the constant movement, perfectly fixed on the back of Party’s chair, unmoving as if he were a statue from the neck up. Finally he seemed to settle for crossing his arms, though his knee continued to bounce rapidly.

Finally they arrived at the Sand Pit, Party pulling the Trans Am up to sit next to a cherry-red motorbike. Even from inside the vehicle Jet could hear the Sand Pit's music thumping, with no discernable words. Multicolored lights flared out of the small windows, flashing like strobes. Jet wasn't one for that sort of thing, but maybe it could be fun. He could give it a try, at least. Try to play along as if he were enjoying himself so that the others, who seemed so excited, wouldn't worry about him.

Party and Fun seemed to have no such hesitations as they jumped out of the car, grinning. Jet followed somewhat slower, catching Kobra's eyes in the mirror for a split second. He was grimacing, eyes shining with steady reluctance, but looked away quickly. 

Jet followed Fun as Party grabbed his brother's sleeve and dragged him towards the building. The music grew less and less appealing as they approached, also reeking a sort of sickly sweet yet bitter smell, like alcohol and B.O. It was like if sensory overload was a building. He could handle it though, it was fine. 

Kobra seemed to disagree.

As they were about to reach the door, Kobra suddenly stopped letting himself be dragged along, also stopping Party, who stumbled on the semi-firm sand. The latter's face fell as he looked at his brother's expression, lips pulled back slightly and eyes shifting over the ground. The Kid reached up and rubbed his ear like he wanted to cover it. “Party, I don't-”

“Come on, Kobes,” Party whined petulantly. “Every time we try to go somewhere you do this. I get that it's not your thing but we can't just leave you out here by yourself! Please can you just deal with it for one night?”

Jet could see the way that Kobra's fist clenched at the hem of his jacket, and the way his breathing quickened. The poor kid was panicking at the thought of going in there, with the headache music and the writhing crowd and the sick smell. He couldn't stand the look on his face, like he wanted to vomit.

“Actually, it's not really my scene either,” Jet cut in, taking a step over to Kobra. “Kobes and I could take a drive for an hour or two, then come back and pick you up, how's that?”

Party let go of his brother's sleeve, glancing at the bar, the Trans Am, and then at Jet. “You don't care that you're missing it?”

“You cannot seriously tell me that you like that music.”

The redhead glanced at the bar once more, his will seeming to weaken. “Okay fine. Just an hour and a half, okay? Don't run into any trouble without us.”

“You're the one that causes the trouble,” Jet smiled. “Come on Kobra, let's hit it.”

Party offhandedly threw Jet the keys, then he and Fun scrambled through the swinging wooden doors as if they couldn’t move fast enough, and Jet set off in the opposite direction, Kobra trailing after him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the relieved expression on his face, though still tinged with a kind of shy reluctance.

“You didn’t have to lie,” he said in a quiet voice. “You can go with them if you want, really I d-”

“I wasn’t lying,” Jet interrupted his stream of words. “It really isn’t my thing.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Jet now let the fact sink in that he didn’t have to go into the smelly and uncomfortable bar, and the tension he didn’t know he’d been holding loosened. “I’m actually really glad I don’t have to go, I was kind of dreading it.”

A smile spread on Kobra’s face. “Me too.”

Jet slipped into the driver's seat of the Trans Am, Kobra hopping into the passengers’ with almost exaggerated glee. The rumble of the engine had never sounded so sweet, in Jet’s opinion. He pulled out of the ‘parking lot’ and went tearing down the road again. The vehicle felt strangely empty without Party and Fun, and at the same time too crowded, like Jet and Kobra were too close together, in each other’s personal space. He could swear that the sleeve of his jacket brushed Kobra’s with every breath. 

They drove for a few minutes, until the bar was just a lightly glowing dot on the horizon, then Kobra spoke up. 

“Stop here,” he pointed to a bit of packed sand on the side of the road. Jet, not questioning his instructions, pulled over and turned the engine of the Am off, reveling in the silence, almost deafening in the wake of the bar’s loud, thumping music.

Kobra, seemingly in his element now, stepped out of the car and closed the door behind him. Jet followed after a moment of just sitting, to find Kobra closing the trunk, two clear bottles in hand. 

“I was gonna drink these at the bar,” he looked at them, then shyly back at Jet. “Since it’s already too loud in there, and alcohol just makes it worse, really. Since we aren’t going I figured we could share them.”

A sudden, unfamiliar warm feeling seeped into Jet’s chest. It was similar to fondness, though it was more powerful and it had an almost dangerous edge, with cicadas in his stomach like he got when he was in a firefight. He almost didn’t notice when Kobra pressed the bottle into his hand.

When the world snapped back into focus, Kobra was sitting on the hood of the Trans Am, his back easily leaning on the windshield. His face was illuminated by the dim starlight, a sharp shadow marking his jawline, and his expectant eyes waiting for Jet to sit next to him. There was that feeling, again.

The hood of the Trans Am felt even more cramped than the interior, somehow. There was maybe an inch of space between them, humming with a sort of tense energy. Jet mindlessly popped the lid off his drink, labeled “Grape Soda”. He wasn’t sure what grapes tasted like, but when he took a sip he decided he liked it. 

The silence between him and Kobra was easy and taut all at once, like a bomb that may or may not have been set off. Jet wondered why his mouth was so dry, even though he was drinking a soda.

Kobra wiggled in his spot, and Jet was aware of every move. He was aware of how Kobra’s arm was now glued to his, almost purposefully, and he was aware that he could feel Kobra’s body heat through two layers of leather, a comfort in the cold desert air. He could see Kobra’s chest rising with every breath, and his eyelashes move as he blinked. Jet wondered why he was noticing these things.

“Do you know any constellations, Jet?” Kobra hadn’t looked away from the sky.

“No,” Jet murmured, trying to divert his attention upwards instead of to the killjoy next to him. He was surprised his words came so easily, when he felt like there was glue in his throat.

Kobra pointed up, and Jet tried to follow his finger. He had very delicate hands, like an artist. 

“That’s Cygnus, the swan. Over there is Capricorn, the goat. There’s Lupus, and next to it is Scutum.”

“How do you know all these?” Jet gave up trying to look at the stars and fixed his eyes on Kobra’s, who still seemed enamored by the sky. 

“Back when I lived in Battery City, I had a book about astronomy. It was mostly just history, since you can’t really see any stars there, but I was fascinated by it for some reason. There was a map of all the constellations, and I pretty much memorized it. There’s a few I can’t remember, though. That always makes me kinda sad.”

There was a silent pause, stretching between them like a rubber band. Jet could see his breath rising in little puffs, and when he looked he could see Kobra’s too, and found himself strangely fascinated. 

“That one’s my favorite,” Kobra pointed again to the sky, though Jet had no idea which group of stars he was pointing at. It was all nonsense to him, though he was more than content to listen to Kobra talk about it. “It’s called Aquila, or the eagle. It has a cool story. Way back when, in ancient Greece, they believed in their gods, right? Well the legend says Zeus was in love with a mortal on earth, and so he turned into an eagle and kidnapped them. Kind of a fucked story, I guess.”

“What was her name?”

“Who?”

“The mortal.”

“His name was Ganymede.”

Surprise struck Jet dumb, and he glanced at Kobra, becoming even more surprised when he saw that The Kid was already looking at him, eyes tracing over his face like he was looking for something. Jet supposed he found it, because before he knew it Kobra was leaning in and kissing him.

He had never kissed anyone before, woman or man. He’d never even considered kissing a man. He figured if he had, he would have thought of it as strange and uncomfortable, but nothing had ever seemed more  _ right  _ than kissing Kobra Kid in the dead of night, on the roof of the Trans Am, the taste of grape soda still on his tongue. 

Kobra was warm. Jet had figured out what that soft feeling was.

Probably more than an hour and a half later, they arrived back at the bar and picked up Party and Fun. Nobody said anything when he and Kobra sat in the backseat and discretely held hands, and for that he was grateful.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If my fanfiction doesn't have stargazing and homoerotic subtext than I Do Not Want It.


End file.
